


Green Seas, Blue Skies

by ChapstickJunkie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental overdose, Angst, Drug Use, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Louis Tomlinson Wears Harry Styles's Clothes, M/M, Mentions of addiction, Non global pandemic AU, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, i can’t believe that was already a tag, twitter Niall in the real world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:42:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28765776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChapstickJunkie/pseuds/ChapstickJunkie
Summary: “Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story.”-Richard SikenIt’s 2015, and One Direction is the biggest pop band in the world. With their 5th album newly released and topping the charts, the group looks to be unstoppable.Until they break up, suddenly, unexpectedly, and most of all, permanently.Louis left first.At least, that’s how the world saw it.Welcome to 2020, (a non-global-pandemic au) and the 10 year anniversary tour celebrating the creation of One Direction is quickly approaching.Except for one problem, no one has seen Louis Tomlinson in almost five years.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	1. Was it Nostalgia? Maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick message before we begin:  
> I would like to start by stating that this work is entirely fictional and does not reflect the real lives of the boys in any way, shape, or form. Any opinions expressed are my own and I would like to state again, this work is entirely fictional. 
> 
> With that said, I only post on ao3 and would prefer if people not repost my work without asking. Thank you.

NOW  
_______________

Harry huffs as the cold stings at his nose. His teeth chatter as he glances around at the modest neighborhood before tucking his jaw back into the warm scruff of his coat.

Leaning forward on his toes, Harry presses the bell again, hearing it echo from inside the house.

“I’m coming!” 

The familiarity of that voice, echoing from inside, sends a bolt of something through Harry’s chest. Was it nostalgia?

Maybe. 

If he focused on the scuffling of his own shoes, of the slide of the bolts from behind the door, he could pretend to ignore the tightening in his chest. He could pretend that this was normal, a normal visit, to an old friend. He could pretend it hadn’t been so long.

It’s been five years since Harry saw Louis. Five years since their band, One Direction, broke up unexpectedly. Five years since they were the biggest faces on magazines, in Met gala reviews, in homemade YouTube fan cams. Five years since they stopped being the biggest will they-won’t they in the world.

The door rattles and for a moment Harry considers running. Just as he takes a step back, the door is pushed open, and Harry is frozen in place.

Nailed to the ground by the deep blue of Louis’ stare. He had seen those eyes for the past five years, in hastily snapped paparazzi photos and replayed videos.

He has been haunted by those eyes. 

And now, here they were. Like five years hadn’t passed at all.

“Hi.” Harry’s voice shook. Maybe Louis would ignore that.

“How did you find me?” 

“What?” Harry’s heart dropped at Louis’ cold tone. Stepping back, he paused to truly take in the sight of the other man. He looked older, what would he be now, twenty eight? Strong arms braced against the doorframe, steady shoulders stretched between them. It was a far cry from the lanky boy Harry remembers from their band days. He looked...good. Healthy, like he had gained back all the weight lost from years spent constantly on tour. 

“How did you find me?” Louis repeats. 

“I-“ Harry stammers uncomfortably, “I tried to call you but it said your number had been disconnected. I still had your sister’s number, she sent me here.”

Louis nods, expressionless. 

“The others tried reaching out, as well,” Harry shifts his feet, trying to fill the space of Louis’ thinking with spoken words. Trying to explain himself. “But everything had been cut off.”

Louis nods again. “Can I help you with something?” The question is polite, spoken in the voice Louis once saved for reporters, interviewers, photographers. For people he didn’t know.

Spoken in Harry’s direction, it just felt wrong.

Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat. “The guys and I- we were thinking of planning something. For the anniversary. You know, ten years since we got together- as a band, that is, and we just thought- we had some ideas-“ Harry fumbled with his phone, searching for the files. 

The hum of an engine passes on the street behind him and Louis’ attention jumps to it, seeming to remember where they are. His eyes focus on Harry, truly, for the first time the night, taking in Harry’s trembling figure, fingers nearly blue from the cold.

“I’m so sorry,” Louis scrambles to open the door further, “I’m being rude. Would you like to come inside?”

Harry nearly gasps in gratitude, “Yes, please.” His frozen fingers tangle over themselves as he attempts to balance his phone in the same hand as his keys.

Louis watches him fumble for a moment, and then, “I saw your Vogue cover.”

Harry chokes on his tongue, question caught in his throat.

Louis seems to understand it anyways, “Don’t worry.” He tips his head slightly, expression still unreadable, “The dress suits you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Louis agrees, turning away, “It’s a lovely shade of blue.” He walks away into the house, leaving the door open.

Harry takes it as a silent invitation, dipping his head to follow Louis inside.

——-

“Anything I can get for you? Coffee? Tea?” 

“Tea would be lovely, please.” Harry shimmies out of his heavy coat, taking in the place. It’s cozy, warmed with the golden glow of Tiffany lamps. If it were anyone else, the stained glass would be an odd choice, but for Louis, somehow, it fits. The room is drenched in color, turquoise on the walls, deep red in the upholstery, golden yellow bouncing from every picture frame. And there are many, scattered across Louis’ living room wall. Old ones, new ones. People Harry’s never met, probably never even heard of, considering some of the newer ones. 

A small, square frame hangs among the others and the familiarity of it draws Harry in. 

It’s them. The band. Taken the day they first performed together. Harry smiles at the memory, moving closer. God, they used to be so small. And the clothes, so reflective of 2010. Harry laughs in embarrassment and fondness. Niall is the best dressed of all of them, blonde hair swooped over his forehead as he leans into Liam’s side. Liam’s mouth is tilted up in a half-smile, arms thrown over Niall and Louis’ shoulders. Louis' smile is the widest, eyes crinkled up in pure happiness. Harry and Zayn sit on the step beneath them, wrists piled up with homemade bracelets. The apples of Harry’s cheeks are flushed pink with excitement, and in that captured moment he looks so, so young. 

“I don’t hate you guys.” 

Louis’ voice cuts through the silence and Harry steps away from the picture nervously. 

“Never have. If that’s possible to believe.”

Harry shrugs, accepting the extended cup of tea. “It’s been a long time.” He tries his best to conceal the hurt in his voice. “You never really kept in touch.”

“I’m sorry.” Louis’ voice is genuine, and Harry looks up at the softness of it. 

Louis’ tongue clicks quietly as he opens his mouth, but then something flashes across his eyes and he’s closing his mouth firmly, shaking his head and gesturing for Harry to sit. 

Harry glances back at the photo before lowering himself onto the edge of an armchair, “We used to be so small.”

Louis smiles warmly, eyes distant.

Harry laughs, “I wonder if any of us knew what we were getting ourselves into?”

“You said you had something to show me.” The warmth has dropped from Louis’ voice.

Harry startles. “Yes, I have.” 

Louis waits expectantly as Harry pulls out his phone.

“We had some ideas, for the ten year anniversary, birthday, I guess, of the band.”

Louis nods.

“I know we never toured for our last album, and a lot of fans never got to see those songs performed live, so we were thinking of a kind of reunion tour? Just a brief one, I know we all have our individual projects now, but we would just hit the major stops, London, New York, L.A., a sort of final send off.” Harry cuts himself off, looking up at Louis for approval. “What do you think of that?”

“That’s quite a big project.” Louis takes a sip of his tea, nodding to himself, thinking.

“Yeah,” Harry laughs, “But I think the fans deserve it, after we broke up on them like that.” 

Louis nods again. He’s done a lot of that, Harry notes. He wonders if it’s a good thing. 

“We would probably perform a couple of our old hits, but Liam had an idea that maybe we could perform some of our new stuff that we’ve worked on since, almost like a mash-up of all our solo albums mixed with some of our old stuff. Kind of like, who we were then and who we are now. Let people know that even though things have changed, we’re still the same people they fell in love with all those years ago.” Harry shifts his cup awkwardly when Louis doesn’t respond. “It’s kind of sappy, I know-“

“No, no.” Louis quickly sits up, “It’s a good idea. Good intentions.”

Harry frowns at the odd choice of wording, choosing to move on. “I know that you haven’t released any music since the split, but if there’s stuff you’re working on that you’d like to-“

“There isn’t.” Louis interrupts.

“Oh. Um,” Harry fiddles with his cup, “Like there isn’t anything you’d want to perform or there isn’t anything you’ve worked on since we split?”

“Neither. Both. I don’t know.” Louis stands abruptly, “I haven’t been focused on music.”

“Hey, That’s okay.” Harry reassures, “We can always put something together, you’ve always been good at writing music, it shouldn’t be hard to-“

“It’s alright.” Louis passes into the kitchen. 

Harry hears his teacup clink against the sink before Louis returns, lingering in the doorway.

“It’s a wonderful idea, Harry. I think you guys will do a great job.”

“We would do a great job, Louis,” Harry insists, “It’s not a reunion unless you’re there.”

“You guys will do just fine.” Louis answers flippantly.

And before Harry can argue that, no, it’s not a reunion unless all the members reunite, Louis is crossing the living room to the front door, clearly escorting Harry out.

“It’s been wonderful seeing you, but I’m sorry, I have things to work on.” Louis’ voice is firm, no room for argument. 

Harry finds room anyways. “What could you possibly have to work on? Obviously not music, as you so clearly stated.”

Louis’ eyes narrow, head tilting, and Harry interrupts again before Louis can lay into him.

“I’m sorry.” Harry stands up, walking to the door. He pulls his coat on, glancing up at Louis as he talks,“I must have caught you at a bad time. It was rude of me not to call in advance. I apologize.” Harry takes a deep breath, flipping up his coat collar, wondering how far he can push his luck, “The band and I are meeting for coffee at Minnie’s tomorrow morning at 9, even if you don’t want to join the tour, it would be nice to have you there.” He looks up at Louis, “I know the guys miss you.”

Louis stares over Harry’s shoulder, refusing to make eye contact.

Harry pulls the front door open, stepping halfway into the night before turning over his shoulder, “It was good to see you Louis, genuinely.” 

And before Louis can respond, Harry is turning back towards the dark, stepping out into the street and disappearing into the night. 

NOW  
_______________

“Refil, sir?”

Harry blinks back to awareness, shaking his head slightly, “Oh, yes, please.” 

The girl reaches across the table, tipping coffee into the teacup in front of Harry. “Any others?”

“No, thank you.” Liam nods politely, glancing down to the younger man slouched against his arm. “Niall? If anyone needs coffee it’s you, mate.”

Niall shakes his head, slumping back into the booth.

“We’re alright, thanks.” Zayn smiles at the waitress and she blushes, stammering out a “call if you need anything” before scurrying back to the kitchen. As soon as the door swings shut Zayn turns sharply to Harry. “You don’t need more coffee.”

“I do.” He counters, tipping the cup up in a toast, “Calms my nerves.”

“It does not.” Liam retorts, frowning as Harry raises his eyebrows, downing half the cup in spite. 

Harry returns the cup to the table, ignoring the way his hands are starting to tremble. It’s just caffeine. Just caffeine.

“He’s not coming.”

“No.” Harry looks up at Zayn, looking away again at the pity in his eyes, redirecting his gaze over Liam’s shoulder to the door of the cafe, the bell hung above it depressingly silent. “He’s coming.”

“Mate.” Liam sighs, “It’s been forty minutes. I can’t imagine he’d be-“

“He’s not coming.” Niall interrupts, shoving himself out from the corner. “He’s not gonna drop all our calls for years and then show up for coffee like all’s good.”

“All is good.” Harry stares hard at Niall. “I talked to him.”

Niall stares back, “Did you talk to him? Or did you talk at him and assume he-“

“Okay!” Liam throws himself between the boys. “Niall, settle down. Harry. You met with Louis. Did he say he was going to come or did you just invite him?”

Harry shrinks under his gaze. “Umm…”

Niall huffs, accent strengthened with exhaustion, “So we’ve been sittin’ here for nothin’ then?” 

Zayn reaches out, pushing Niall back into the corner. Niall crosses his arms, slumping back into the cheap upholstery.

“Not nothing.” Harry looks down, toying with the handle of his teacup. “I thought he was going to come, genuinely.”

“We can still do a reunion.” Liam reassures. 

Harry looks up glumly. I wasn’t thinking of the reunion, he wants to say, I was just thinking of us. But he doesn’t, hiding the tremble of his lip behind a sip of coffee, “It’ll just be weird. Like when Freddie Mercury died and Queen kept making music. Like, bad weird.”

“So do we do nothing at all?” Niall asks, “I mean, it’s not like he died or any-“

The bell above the door jangles loudly and all four heads whip around to face it.

“I’m sorry.” Louis’ pale face is flushed pink, eyes deeply apologetic. “I’m sorry I’m late, I-“ He walks quickly across the room, snow on his shoes. “I’m sorry.”

He stands at the end of the table, hat in his hands, looking for all the world like a beggar at the doors of a church hoping for god’s grace. Or maybe just a cup of coffee.

Harry scoots down the booth, “It’s alright, please.” He gestures. 

Louis doesn’t look at him as he sits.

Louis slides into the booth tentatively, offering a polite smile to the boys. 

Liam clears his throat. “It’s good to see you, Louis.”

Louis nods, “It’s good to see you, too.”

Zayn and Niall sit silently, staring from across the table. Niall seems to have curled into himself. 

“You too, Zayn, Niall.” He nods at each of them. 

“It’s been a long time.” Zayn states evenly. 

“It’s _been_ nearly five years.” Niall corrects. “Phone calls are free, you know. Let us know you’re alive.”

“Phone calls aren’t free.” Zayn looks over, confused, “Phone bill.”

“They’re free with landlines.” Niall snaps. 

“No.” A smile tugs at Zayn’s lips, “No, they’re not.” He looks over at Niall, laughing, “Do you not understand how phone bills work?”

“Whatever, it’s a saying.” Niall waves him away, leaning across the table, “and it means it’s been a long fucking time since you bothered to even breathe in our direction.”

If it was even possible, Louis looks even more apologetic. “I didn’t realize. It’s been a long time and just-“

“It’s okay.” Liam reaches across the table to lay a hand on his arm. “We understand.”

Niall huffs, slumping back into the booth, arms crossing over his sweatered chest.

Louis’ eyes jump down to Liam’s hand, “It that?”

Liam sits up happily, flashing his left hand, “I’m engaged!”

Louis' attention lingers on the gold band, “I didn’t realize you were even dating…”

“Like I said,” Niall pipes up from the corner, “It’s been a long time.”

“But we’re all here now.” Harry interrupts, “And that’s what’s important.”

Niall raises his eyebrows, taking a sip of his tea, but thankfully stays silent.

“Harry’s right.” Liam pushes his cup aside, reassuming his role as the unofficial leader of the group. “Whatever happened before is over, and we’re here on business. Our ten year anniversary is in five months and we have a lot of planning to do.

Louis, I’m sure Harry’s already told you, but so far we’ve been playing with the idea of a brief reunion tour, since I know we all have our individual lives. 

We would hit a couple of major cities, play some old stuff, play some new stuff, the works.” Liam pauses, “How does that sound?”

Louis nods, “Sounds like you guys have it all planned out.”

“Well, no.” Liam responds, “Not everything. There’s still the set list, lighting and such, picking venues…”

“We wanted you to be included in the decision making.” Zayn offers.

“I’m not sure I deserve that, but thank you.” Louis responds quietly.

“If I’m allowed to be here you certainly are as well.” Zayn reassures him. “We’re glad to have you back.”

Liam nods encouragingly, and even Niall sits up from where he’s slumped sleepily to agree.

“Louis,” Liam sighs, tipping his head back and forth, as if weighing the consequence of his next words, “None of us are angry at you, at least not anymore.”

Harry sits quietly, gaze fixed on the scratched wood of the table.

Liam takes a deep breath, daring to continue onto words they’ve never said, “No one blames you for breaking up the band.”


	2. You’re Like A Time Capsule

PAST   
——————————

“I wish the universe would tell us when our lives were about to change.”

Louis turned his head lazily to face Harry, “What do you mean?”

Harry shrugs his shoulders against the hotel comforter they’re splayed out on. His face is turned to the ceiling, and Louis lets his eyes slowly trace the boy’s profile, following the straight line of his nose and the curves of his lips. 

“I don’t know, like…” Harry sighs, pouting slightly. 

Louis waits patiently, watching the thoughts move behind Harry’s eyes. 

“I wish we had gotten like, a notification from the universe the second we signed up for the X-factor, like hey! Look out! This is the start of it all!”

Louis hums in agreement, nodding. 

“Or when we all met each other.” Harry continues, “Cause like, now everything is so different. Everything’s changed and I can’t tell where it all started.” His voice lowers at the end, tinged with sadness.

Louis rolls over on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows so that Harry is forced to look at him. “Harry Edward Styles.”

Harry’s face furrows in confusion and Louis laughs at the expression, “This is your official notice from the universe. Your life is about to change.”

Harry laughs, “What’s happened? What’s it for?”

“It’s for me,” Louis drops back down onto the bed, scooching over until their heads are nearly touching. 

Harry giggles, turning to look at him. “What?”

“We’re best friends now.”

NOW   
——————————

“Louis! Hey!” Niall claps him on the shoulder as he walks past, any bitterness from their first meeting vanished. The man sets down a stack of papers on the piano, turning around to properly greet Louis. “How’s it feel to be back?”

“A bit surreal, to be completely honest.” Louis admits, looking around at the expensive equipment lining the walls of the studio, “I never thought I’d be back in a place like this.”

Niall hums in agreement, “Must be weird.”

“Is it?” Liam cuts in from where he’d been eavesdropping from across the room. “I thought this would be better than trying to meet at someone’s house. Cause like, I know a lot of us have fully equipped studios at home and all, but I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable-“

“Liam, it’s great. Don’t worry.” Louis reassures him. 

Liam’s shoulders visibly relax, “Good! That’s good. That’s great!” He claps his hands, looking around the studio as if searching for a place to start. “Zayn and Harry are coming around later in the afternoon.” He laughs, “They definitely have way busier schedules than me and Niall.”

Louis laughs dryly. “Yeah, probably me too.”

They stand in silence for a minute, each uncertain of where to start. 

There’s a longing hanging over all of them, a desire to simply fall back into the old patterns they once traced around each other with ease. But it’s as if the three boys invited to the practice session never arrived and in their places stand three men, strangers now. The old patterns don’t fit anymore.

Niall rocks on his feet, running a hand through his hair. It’s brown now, Louis notices. He wants to ask since when? When did Niall stop being the “blonde Irish one” and start being someone else? When did he stop being Niall from One Direction and start being Niall Horan. 

When did Liam start being Liam Payne?

Is Louis still just Louis from One Direction, with no other weight to his name? He doesn’t want to know. 

“I brought all the classics.” Niall finally says, awkwardly patting the stack of papers on the piano. “I figure since it’s just the three of us we could get through some of the dirty work this morning. Figure out what we wanna play?”

Liam seems relieved at the suggestion, divvying up the pile of sheet music and passing a stack to each man. 

They each settle in a corner of the studio, making small talk as they sort out music. “What have you been up to?” “Golf.” “Tik-tok.”

It doesn’t take long for Louis to fall back into the pattern of arranging a track list. His favorite pieces are spread out on the floor in front of him, and Louis flips through the sheet music, looking for where the endings of songs could line up with beginnings. 

“We should do Olivia.” Liam suggests from behind a guitar stand. “I know it wasn’t huge when it was released, but the guys on tik-tok love it.”

“Wasn’t that the one that Harry wanted all those trumpets in?” Niall asks.

“Yeah! Yeah!” Louis snaps his fingers, “He wanted like an, I live for you, I long for you, Olivia, buh-buh-BUH.” 

Liam nods excitedly, “We should add that back in, I feel like it’ll hold up.”

“Ooh,” Niall reaches across his mess of papers, “We should do an acoustic of Night Changes,”

“Acoustic or acapella?” Liam asks, standing up from behind the guitar stand. 

“I’m thinking acoustic.” Niall reaches for his guitar, tuning the strings as he thinks. “It could be good if we need something low-tech for a set change, we’re gonna have a lot of backup musicians with all our different genres.”

Niall picks out the first few notes, singing the words softly under his breath. Liam joins in, stronger, and Niall smiles up at him. 

Louis grins as he watches the two trade lyrics back and forth. Taking a breath, he joins in for the chorus, voice pitching higher as they harmonize. It’s like muscle memory coming back as Louis works his voice around Niall and Liam’s. With unspoken communication, the three pass leadership of the song back and forth, always coming back together for the chorus. 

Niall plays a simple ending and they let the notes fade into the silence. 

Niall laughs in happiness, “For not doing music for five years, you’ve still got it, mate!”

Louis shrugs, “I sing in the shower.”

“My favorite venue!” Liam jokes.

“Oh yeah,” Louis laughs, “I’m sure Maya loves that at seven am.”

“I’ll have you know she’s a big fan.” Liam replies with sarcastic seriousness, dropping his stack of sheet music on the piano.

The door of the studio opens loudly and the men look up as Harry and Zayn stomp in, kicking the snow off their shoes. The comfortable atmosphere they’ve created vanishes as Louis makes eye contact with Harry, pressing his lips together as a greeting.

Louis steps out of the way as Harry moves past him, dumping a duffel bag against the wall. 

“We were just picking out pieces.” Niall gestured to the stack on the piano. “If there’s anything else you want, don’t want-“ He waves his hand uselessly. 

Zayn nods, flipping through the stack, uncapping a pen and adding notes to the margins. 

“What have you rehearsed?” Harry directs the question to Niall.

“Just Night Changes, talked about adding your trumpets to Olivia.”

Harry grins at that, “I’m glad to see you’ve all finally come to your senses.”

“Oh no.” Zayn groans, holding up a copy of What Makes You Beautiful, “I fucking hated this song.”

“Good.” Liam laughs, plucking it from his hands, “Cause it’s at the top of the set list.”

——-

“Stop. Stop. Just, stop it.” Liam yanks his headphones off, frowning deeply, “This doesn’t sound right at all.”

Niall groans, pulling off his own headphones, “We’ve been practicing this song for half an hour, mate.”

“It’s the bloody verses.” Zayn scratches a note into his margins, “Our voices have changed since it was written, we’re gonna have to move the whole thing down a note or two.”

Liam sighs, “We’re not getting that done tonight, and it’s too late to start on something else.”

Zayn nods in agreement. 

“I’m calling it.” Liam states, glancing over at Louis as if looking for confirmation. “Louis?”

Louis feels a moment of deja vu of their old dynamic, as the two unofficial leaders of One Direction. Louis wonders if he still deserves that spot. 

But when he looks up, all four boys have their eyes on him, waiting for his call. “I think that’s good for today, lads.” Louis loops his headphones over his music stand. “Maybe we can get back on this tomorrow?”

They all seem to murmur in agreement, gathering their things tiredly. Harry stares at him for a moment longer, expression unreadable, before turning back to the sheet music in front of him. 

Louis worries his lip as he thinks, packing music to work on into his backpack. Back in the band, the main reason for him and Liam’s leadership was age and experience, considering half of the members were legally children. But now they’re older, and in terms of life experiences, Louis doesn’t think he can claim that leadership anymore. The boys had trusted him back then to think for the good of the group, to do what was best for the band, and look how that turned out. 

Louis frowns, pulling his bag over his shoulder as he walks to the front of the building. 

Harry is already waiting outside, phone glowing in his hand, calling up a cab. 

Louis steps past him, fully intending on catching the first train back to Doncaster. 

But then Harry glances up at him quickly with that same unreadable expression and Louis stops in his tracks. “What?”

Harry shakes his head, looking back at his phone, “Nothing.”

“No.” Louis raises his eyebrows. “You’ve been acting weird all afternoon. I know when something’s up.”

“Nothing’s up.” Harry’s eyes shift around the parking lot, trying to look anywhere except Louis’ face. “I’m just tired.”

Louis crosses his arms, staring him down, “If you don’t want me here anymore you can just say that.”

“We want you here.” Harry responds quickly.

“That’s not what I asked.” Louis replies evenly, “I asked if you still want me here.”

“I do, You just…” Harry trails off helplessly.

“Just what?” Louis presses. 

Harry hesitates, still looking around the empty parking lot. “You’re like a time capsule.” He finally replies. 

Louis furrows his eyebrows in confusion, about to tell Harry to stop speaking in riddles when a large, black car pulls into the parking lot, slowing to a stop in front of them. 

Harry reaches down for his duffel bag, throwing it over his shoulder. “Good night Louis.” He says softly, and then he’s climbing into the back seat and disappearing behind tinted glass. 

Louis watches the car turn out of the parking lot, waiting until the low rumble of the engine has faded before shouldering his backpack and starting off to the station. 

——-

The train car Louis takes back to Doncaster is empty, with just the yellow-green of fluorescent lights and his own reflection staring back from darkened windows to accompany him on his journey. 

It’s quiet. 

PAST   
—————————-

Louis yelps as Harry lands on him, the mattress dipping under their combined weight. “How did you even get in here?”

Harry giggles, “You know how there’s a door between our rooms?”

“Yeah?”

“You left your side unlocked.” Harry snuggles his chin against Louis’ shoulder, reaching over to grab Louis’ hand and place it in his hair.

Louis obliges easily, combing his fingers through Harry’s curls. “It’s getting long.” He notes.

Harry hums happily, if he were a cat Louis swears he would be purring. “I could ask Lou to find someone to cut it.”

Louis shakes his head, “I like it like this. It’s fun. Curly.”

Harry giggles, turning to press his face into Louis' neck and Louis can feel him smile against his collarbone. “I could grow it out. Be one of those bad boy rock stars with long hair.”

Louis laughs out loud at that, “Bad boy rock star? You?”

Harry pulls his face out of Louis’ neck to frown up at him. “I could pull it off.”

“With a baby face like that? Sure.” Louis replies sarcastically. 

“I could!” Harry replies indignantly, pushing himself out of Louis’ arms until he’s sitting up on the bed. “I’m sorry that we weren’t all born with cheekbones like knives.”

Louis sits up, tracing a finger over the shapes of his own face, “That sharp, huh?”

“Oh my god!” Harry laughs, pulling the pillow out from the headboard to bash Louis over the head. “I’m going to catch up someday, mark my words Tomlinson.”

Louis ducks out of the way, rolling across the bed. “I seriously doubt that.” He drops off the mattress, pulling a pillow along with him. “I hate to be the one to break the news, but you’re gonna be baby faced forever.”

Harry’s face screws up in mock anger, swinging his pillow at Louis. Louis blocks it with his own, catching Harry by surprise as he brings the pillow back down on the younger boy's shoulder.

Harry shrieks, standing up on the bed and using his leverage to swing the pillow down at Louis.

Louis swings back blindly, Harry bouncing back and forth on the bed. Eventually Louis gets a hit in, striking Harry in the backs of his knees and the boy tumbles down onto the mattress.

Harry falls down, pillow trapped beneath his back, and Louis jumps at the opportunity, clambering up onto the bed to smush his pillow into Harry’s face.

Harry’s muffled cry comes from beneath the expensive bedding, “I surrender! I surrender! Stop it! Lou!” 

Louis sits back, pillow raised over his head, and Harry raises his hands in surrender.

“You remain the king of cheekbones.” Harry admits defeat. 

“Damn right I do.” Louis tosses the pillow back onto the headboard, crawling up the bed to settle beside Harry. “These bad boys could cut ice.”

“Alright.” Harry deadpans, searching through the sheets for the TV remote, “Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“Hey.” Louis shrugs, “You’re the one that complimented my beautiful facial structure first.” 

Harry rolls his eyes, settling on a channel and tossing the remote to the side.

Louis reaches across Harry to the bedside, flipping off the lights. Harry makes a small noise, snuggling into Louis’ side, eyes transfixed by a movie Louis is sure they’ve both seen before. It isn’t long before the gentle noise of their breathing evens out, falling asleep to the sounds of an American blockbuster. The blue light of the TV flickers across the boys as their tired bodies cuddle closer together, casting shadows for all their softer spots to hide in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know shit about trains no one look at me.


	3. It’s slippery. The driveway, when it snows.

NOW  
—————————  
“I actually really like this!” Liam pulls his headphones off. “It’s different, yeah, but it sounds more like us.”

They’re back in the studio. Niall and Louis are huddled together in a corner. Niall has a guitar tucked beneath his arm, picking out the notes to a song he’s working on as Louis points out suggestions. 

Across the room, Zayn is furiously scribbling R&B influences into any piece he can get his hands on. He jots down a few changes, passing the songs back to Liam so he can run through them again. 

Harry’s chest swells with warmth watching his former bandmates. It doesn’t feel like he’s back in 2013, there’s no nostalgia in this scene. Even at their best they were never able to work like this, just the five of them, expressing themselves freely in their music. There was always someone watching over them, someone there to filter. 

Harry feels a sort of smug satisfaction as he writes the trumpets back into Olivia. 

———

“I’m calling it.” Liam yawns, peeling off his headphones and tossing them onto the sofa. They bounce up, hitting Zayn in the face and he startles awake.

Niall looks up from where he’d been sneakily packing up his things for the past half hour. 

Harry follows his gaze to the clock on the wall; it’s almost midnight. 

Louis cusses softly besides him, shoving his things into his backpack before rushing out of the studio. 

The other boys move more slowly, calling up taxi’s or gathering their things. 

Harry wishes the boys goodnight as they leave, turning to pack away his guitar.

“Shit. Fuck.” The door to the studio slams open and Louis comes running in, hands moving over his jacket pockets, obviously searching for something.

“Can I help you find something?”

Louis turns frantically, pushing stacks of papers out of the way. “I can’t find my bloody phone.”

Harry hums in understanding, turning to help Louis dig through the mess of the studio. He spots a flash of shiny black hidden under a bag left on the piano and scoops up the phone, turning around and offering it to Louis.

“Thank you.” The man sighs in relief, his eyes linger on Harry’s face for a moment before trailing up to the clock behind him. Harry can see the way Louis visibly wilts as he reads the time.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I-“ Louis shakes his head, “I take the train up to Doncaster every day, and usually that’s fine but we ran late tonight and-“ Louis waves his hand tiredly, “I’m just gonna have to wait a half hour for the next train and I won’t get home until almost three in the morning.” 

Harry ignores the fact that this is the most Louis has said to him since their first meeting and chooses to instead focus on the issue at hand. “You’ve been taking the train here every day?”

“Yes. Two hours each direction.” Louis looks annoyed, crossing his arms and hunching into himself.

“I thought you had a place in London?” Harry asks uselessly. A decently sized apartment, he remembers being there.

“Sold it.” Louis shrugs. His replies are shortening, as if he’s remembering that he hates Harry still. 

Harry tries his best to grasp at what is left. As though he can get a foot in the door of Louis' mind and wedge his way back inside. “Stay with me.”

Louis looks up, confused, “What?”

“You shouldn’t have to commute four hours a day.” Harry feels the need to explain himself before Louis runs away. “It’s just ridiculous, especially when most of us have homes in London.”

Harry watches Louis turn the offer over in his head, chewing at the inside of his cheek like he does when he’s thinking hard about something. 

“I’d hate to intrude.” He finally settles on.

“You wouldn’t be.” Harry replies quickly. “It’s an enormous place and I live alone, so…” He trails off, uncertain of where he was heading, quickly changing tactics. “We lived together for years during the band, I’m sure a few weeks will be fine.”

Louis shifts his backpack on his shoulder and Harry smiles. He knows that look, exhaustion always made Louis more agreeable, more accepting to suggestions. 

“If I wouldn’t be a bother?” Louis looks up at Harry though tired eyes.

“Of course not! Not at all!” Harry gathers his things from where they sit atop the piano. “It will be nice to have some company.”

Louis looks like he’s about to argue, but changes his mind halfway through opening his mouth, following Harry through the narrow halls of the studio to where a car is waiting outside. 

——

It’s softly snowing when they pull up to Harry’s house in London. 

Louis stares from the car window at the expensive building, the golden glow of street lights catching on the sharp lines of his face. 

Harry climbs out, throwing his bag over his shoulder and rounding the car to pull Louis’ door open before he can.

He offers a hand out to Louis before he can think about what he’s doing. “It’s slippery. The driveway, when it snows.”

Louis nods as if that explains everything, reaching out to take Harry’s hand. 

Harry expects him to take his hand roughly, or to just grab onto his arm. But instead there’s a moment of quiet surprise as Louis delicately slides his hand into Harry’s.

He looks like a prince, stepping from a carriage out into the snow as Harry helps him out of the car. Or maybe an angel, in the way the light catches on his hair and halos around his face. Louis lets out a soft breath and it clouds in the cold air like cigarette smoke through gently parted lips. 

Harry expects Louis to drop his hand like a hot iron the moment he’s out of the car, but he doesn’t, instead holding Harry’s hand loosely as they carefully make their way up the driveway to Harry’s front door. 

Harry breaks the contact to fish his keys out of his pocket, missing the warmth of Louis' touch immediately. 

Harry wrestles the door open, lights clicking on automatically as he walks into the hall. Louis steps in carefully behind him, eyes trailing up the walls like he’s stepped into a museum. There’s snow caught in his hair but he doesn’t make any move to brush it off. 

“I can take your coat, if you’d like.”

Louis startles, turning to Harry. “Yes, thank you. I’m sorry.” He peels off his heavy coat and passes it over to Harry to hang up. 

“I can show you around?” Harry offers, “I mean, obviously you’d like to know where things are-“

Louis nods, “That’d be great, thanks.” Toeing off his shoes, he trails after Harry down the hallway. 

Harry glances back to look at Louis. He dresses far more simply than Harry, dark jeans and a sweater pulled down over his hands. His hair is cut in the same way it was back in 2015. If it weren’t for the growing creases next to Louis’ eyes or the darkening of circles beneath them, Harry wouldn’t think any time had passed at all.

His own words ring back in his ears; ‘You’re like a time capsule.’ 

And he is; dark and sharp against the warm colors of Harry’s house. Harry feels a weird tugging below his heart, as if Louis were opening a hole in his chest. Or maybe filling one so old he had forgotten it was there. 

“Your place is nice.” Louis’ voice is sharp against the walls. His accent strengthened after spending so much time in Doncaster. 

“Thank you.” Harry watches as Louis roams through his large living room, trailing his fingers over the tops of chairs and reaching out to straighten photographs. 

Louis pauses, gaze locked on something tucked on a shelf corner, half hidden between self help books and vintage records. 

It’s a small photograph in a little square frame, identical to the one that Harry had picked out on Louis’ wall. Compared to the modern grandeur of Harry’s home it almost seems out of place. 

“You kept it.” Louis says softly, reaching out to pull the picture from the corner. 

“It's a good picture.” Harry replies.

Louis laughs quietly, “It really isn’t. You could get a thousand better copies now.”

And he’s right. The photo isn’t even really a photo at all, just a piece of paper and the cheapest ink money could buy. After Louis’ mom had sent him the picture of the five of them together, Harry had insisted on a copy. They had snuck out between shows to the nearest public library, paying fifty pence to scan it into the printer and make copies for the whole band. 

“I like this one.” Harry finally says.

Louis smiles, setting the picture frame back on the shelf. His gaze drifts left, to a picture frame turned face down. 

“Hey.” Harry interrupts.

Louis turns to face him, eyebrows raised.

“I’m gonna go put some towels in the guest room, if you wanna grab something to eat from the kitchen.”

Louis nods.

Harry retreats slowly from the living room, pausing in the doorway just out of sight.

He watches Louis wait a moment, and then turn to lift up the picture from where it lies face down. 

Louis' own face smiles up at him. His arms are thrown affectionately over Harry's shoulders and their baby faces are mashed together cheek to cheek. 

Harry watches something tighten in Louis' face as the man turns the picture back over, firmly placing it face down. 

PAST  
—————————

“Louis.”

“Hey, Louis.”

“Louis. Louis. Hey.”

“Oh my god, what?” Louis groans, rolling over in his bunk.

Harry’s head is poked up over the edge, just his eyes and nose visible. “Are you awake?”

Louis reaches up to rub at his eyes. “I am now.”

“Good.” Harry swings a leg up, trying to climb into Louis’ tiny bunk.

“Hey, hey, Harry what- Ow!” Louis yelps as Harry elbows him hard in the side. “What are you doing?”

“Stop squirming.” Harry replies, finally settling down so he’s tucked between Louis and the wall. The space is small and Harry rearranges himself until he’s laying half on top of Louis.

“Harry, it’s-“ Louis looks around for his phone, unable to find it, “It’s late. What are you doing?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Harry replies, tucking his head down to nestle it against Louis' neck. 

Louis reaches up a hand to comb it through Harry’s soft hair. It really is getting long. “Any reason why?”

Harry shrugs against him. 

Louis wraps his other arm around Harry’s shoulders, pulling the younger boy closer to his chest. “Wanna talk about it?”

Harry shakes his head silently. 

“That’s okay.” Louis reassures. He knows how Harry can be when he gets like this. All the boys have their moments. Where the homesickness and the pressure and the crowds and just the _noise_ of their lives become a little too much to handle. 

“I feel like I’m floating sometimes.” Harry’s voice is muffled against Louis’ shoulder. 

“Yeah?”

Harry nods, turning his head to push his nose into the fabric of Louis’ t-shirt. “I just feel like I’m moving so fast.”

Louis stays silent, fingers still playing with the other boy’s hair.

“I feel like I’m gonna crash.” Harry’s voice wavers. “And I’m going too fast to stop. I’m not gonna be able to save myself.”

“Harry,” Louis shifts in bed, trying to look down at him.

Harry shakes his head, fisting his hand into Louis’ shirt. Louis can feel where tears are wetting his shoulder. 

“You’re never gonna crash. You know why?”

Harry pulls back slightly, creating the space for Louis to look at him properly. His eyes are rimmed red, cheeks wet with tears. There’s a line of worry creased between his eyes that Louis wants to smooth away forever.

“Cause you’ve got me, Haz. Remember? Best friends for life.”

Harry laughs wetly, fresh tears bubbling in his eyes.

“I’m always gonna be here to save you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they were roommates.


	4. Purple’s a Good Color on You

NOW   
————————————-

“Harry?”

Harry glances up at the sleepy voice coming from the kitchen doorway and freezes. 

Louis stands there, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the long sleeves of his sweater. He looks like he’s got no pants on, the tops of his thighs covered by the hem of the oversized sweater. “I hate to be a bother, but could I maybe borrow a clean shirt?”

Harry blinks from where he was frozen, mid avocado slice. “Of course, yeah, sorry about that.”

Louis shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. This is my fault.”

“No, it’s-“ Harry shakes his head, letting the argument vanish between them. “Would you like some breakfast first?”

Louis nods, silently padding across the kitchen to sit down on one of the barstools. “Is that avocado?”

“Yeah.” Harry turns around to pop some bread into the toaster. “Do you like it?”

Louis snorts. “Trendiest food on the planet. And you’re putting it on toast, aren’t you? Been living in L.A. too long mate.” Louis freezes as though he’s overstepped some invisible barrier, looking up at Harry for a reaction. 

Harry laughs and Louis visibly relaxes. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had coffee yet. You know how I get.”

Harry wants to laugh again. Wants to say yes, yes I know how you get in the morning, because I’ve woken up to so many mornings with you. 

Instead, Harry turns around to grab the coffee pot, pouring Louis a mug and passing it over the counter.

Louis thanks him quietly, feet kicking against the counter as he drinks. 

Harry steals a glance everytime Louis’ face disappears into the large mug. 

He looks otherworldly, sipping his coffee, glowing golden in the morning sun...like a ghost, risen from Harry’s buried past. Or maybe an angel. 

Harry wants to say something, anything. There’s five years of unspoken dialogue trapped behind his teeth and he knows that somewhere in the mess are the words that could fix everything. 

“Louis.”

Louis raises his eyebrows, setting the mug down on the counter. 

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but then he looks up to Louis’ eyes. Still sky blue, still looking at Harry as though he sees through every lie he could ever tell. 

“Normal toast.” Harry finally says, sliding a plate over to Louis. “No avocado craziness.”

——————————-

“Does that fit alright?”

Louis laughs, cuffing up the sleeves of one of Harry’s sweaters. “All your shirts are going to be big on me.” He looks Harry up and down, “It’s not my fault you’ve grown a foot and gained fifty pounds of muscle since I last saw you.”

Harry laughs.

Louis is _swimming_ in his sweater. It’s a soft purple color, probably made of something expensive. The fabric falls far past Louis’ hands, and the smaller man fights with it, struggling to roll the sleeve up on his left arm.

Harry steps forward into Louis’ space, carefully taking Louis’ hand into his own and rolling up the sleeve for him.

He finishes tidying up the left arm and Louis wordlessly offers his right.

“Purple’s a good color on you.” 

“I don’t wear it often, do I?”

Harry shakes his head, “You should wear it more.”

Louis smiles, blushing slightly as he steps back to grab his backpack.

Harry laughs as he watches Louis move around in his clothes. “People are going to see this and start all those dating rumors again.”

Louis’ jaw tightens. 

Any warmth they had created in the past twelve hours turns to ice, hanging in the air for a moment before shattering like crystal on the floor.

“And we would hate for that to happen, wouldn’t we.” Louis snaps, turning to walk out the front door.

Harry stammers as the door slams closed, and it’s like the little window Harry had into Louis closes with it. 

You’re like a time capsule.

Harry shakes his head, emotion crawling up his throat and sticking behind his teeth. It was easy to look at Louis and pretend that nothing had changed since 2015. But the truth of the situation has been watching like a shadow over Harry’s shoulder, waiting for him to turn around and acknowledge the it; that the Louis he knew was gone long before that.

PAST   
———————

“Harry!” Louis wails, dramatically flinging himself onto Harry’s bed, “I have nothing to wear.”

Harry pokes his head out from the bathroom. He’s been standing there shirtless for the last half hour, admiring the tattoos painted fresh on his skin. “How do you have nothing to wear? We’ve been on the road for like, two weeks.”

Louis sighs dramatically, sliding down the bed. “I have nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Louis.” Harry crosses to the door between their rooms, unlocked as always, poking his head in to count, “You have two full suitcases of nothing but clothes. _And_ you go shopping in every city we stop in. There has to be something.”

“There isn’t.” Louis whines. Suddenly his face lights up, bouncing off the bed and skipping over to Harry’s luggage. 

“What are you doing?” Harry turns, wincing as it stretches the sensitive skin under his tattoos. 

Louis responds like it’s obvious, “I’m finding something to wear. Duh.” 

Harry jumps out of the way as shirts come flying back at him.

Louis whirls around, holding up one of Harry’s sweaters. It’s simple black, with a slightly scooped neckline, nearly identical to a sweater Louis already owns. Harry tells him that.

Louis rolls his eyes. “I’ve already worn that one twice. And we don’t have a laundry stop for another week.”

“So?” Harry shrugs, scooping up a t-shirt from the ground and pulling it on. “It’s not like they can smell you from the stage.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Nope. Liam and Niall don't wash their shirts for months.” Harry laughs, dropping down onto the bed. Shirts bounce up around him. “You’re the weird one.”

Louis gags. “I swear it’s like living with dogs.” He turns away from Harry to peel off the t-shirt he slept in. 

Harry watches the muscles of Louis’ back flex slightly as he pulls the sweater onto his arms. The man is sculpted with a graceful strength that Harry has always envied. Despite Louis’ insistence that he wasn’t a dancer, he had the body of one. All slender and sharp, in contrast to Harry’s clumsiness. 

The sweater drops down, and the fine lines of Louis’ body are hidden again beneath black fabric.

The sweater is entirely too large, dangling down past Louis’ wrists and thighs. It’s obvious that it’s not his own.

“People are going to start the dating rumors again.” Harry pipes up before he can think.

Louis pauses for a moment, head tilted as though the thought had interrupted him. “I don’t think I care.” The words sound new, like Louis’ trying them out for the very first time. 

“I mean,” He glances over to Harry. “People are always going to think things. We know the truth of our relationship, and that’s what’s important. Right?”

Harry swallows, watching Louis as he passes through the hotel room. He really does look like a dancer in the way that he moves through all of Harry’s messes with grace. 

“Right?” Louis' voice comes softer. He’s lingering in the doorway between their rooms, hands draped in sweater, far too big.

“Of course.” Harry watches the crease disappear from between Louis’ eyes, smile pulling on his lips. “We know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Officially hit 69 pages on the doc... nice.


	5. It’s Your House, Harry

PAST   
——————————

Louis watches as Harry slowly strums out another chord on the guitar crammed in his lap. The pitch is slightly sour, but the idea is there. 

“You need to press down harder.” Louis climbs down from his bunk, crossing through the narrow bus to crouch in front of Harry. He adjusts the boy’s finger placement slightly, applying pressure in the places Harry needs to press harder. 

Harry’s face is screwed up in focus, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth. He strums the note again and it’s better. Harry picks up a stub of pencil from the floor, jotting down a note on the paper secured beneath his heel. 

“What are you working on?” Louis drops back to sit on the floor beside the other boy. Narrow aisle of the bus pushing them close enough that their knees are brushing.

“Song.” Harry responds simply, focused on finding the correct placement for the next chord. 

Louis hums, reaching over Harry to pull the sheet of paper out from under his heel. 

Harry makes a sound of protest, but Louis ignores him, skimming his eyes over the piece. He frowns as he reads through the lyrics Harry has scratched down.

“What?”

“Make sure you like what you’re writing.” Louis shrugs, extending the paper back.

Harry snatches it out of his hands, reading back over his own words. “Why wouldn’t I like it? I wrote it.”

“Really? Another song about parties and sex?”

Harry blushes at the word, “It’s what sells.”

Louis raises an eyebrow, “It’s what management thinks sells.”

Harry is silent.

“Just don’t let them turn you into something you’re not.” 

Harry nods, setting the piece of paper aside, almost ashamed.

“But don’t stop writing, Harry.” Louis asserts, pushing encouragement into his voice until Harry looks up from his lap. “The melody’s good, I swear.” 

Louis shifts over until his shoulder is brushing against the other boy’s, “Every pop song is the same, parties and sex and drugs.” Louis waves a hand in the air. “Write something real. A song that means something to you. Be honest.” Louis reaches back for Harry’s discarded notes. “Now let’s see what we can do with this.”

NOW   
——————————

It’s snowing again when they leave the studio. 

Niall and Liam are laughing, bouncing off of each other as they slide around in the snow. 

“Oh shit!” Liam grabs onto Niall’s arm as he slips on the ice, pulling the other man down with him.

Zayn calmly steps over them, pulling out his phone to call a cab. 

“Harry!” Niall laughs up from where he’s laying in the parking lot, snow clumped in his hair. “Do you wanna come with us?”

“We’re going to a couple clubs.” Liam climbs over Niall to stand up. “It’s too nice of a night to just go home.” He looks past Harry, “Louis, you’re invited, too.”

Harry whirls around. 

Louis is standing small in the entrance to the studio building. The fluffy hood of his coat is pulled up, nearly swallowing his face. “Isn’t a club quite a public space?”

Niall shrugs, “No more than any other place.”

Louis pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, thinking. 

“Hey, um.” Harry crosses the parking lot to stand in front of him, “If you’re worried about being spotted publicly with us or anything we can-”

“No! It’s not you guys.” Louis quickly corrects. “It’s just… publicity in general, I suppose.”

Harry frowns. The announcement for the reunion tour comes out in two weeks, much more publicity than being spotted in a pub. 

Louis fidgets in front of him. The man looks visibly uncomfortable, shifting his weight between his feet and curling his fingers into the hem of his sleeves.

“You know what.” Harry digs into his pockets, pulling out his keys. “If you just wanna go back to mine it’s alright.”

“Harry, I’m- it’s really not a-” Louis’ eyes widen as Harry pulls a key from the ring.

“It’s alright Louis, don’t worry about it.” Harry holds out the house key. 

Louis hesitates. “It’s your house, Harry, I don’t-“

“Louis. It’s okay. I promise.” He smiles softly as Louis reaches out, delicately taking the key between two fingers. “You can come out with us next time.” 

Louis nods, “Next time.”

Harry steps back, allowing Louis to walk past him to the car already waiting at the curb. Louis doesn’t look back as he climbs into the backseat.

The car pulls out of the lot and Harry watches it leave. For a moment he stands in the empty lot, just a tall, dark, shadow fragmented by the streetlights and the falling snow.

He wonders if it’s possible for time to feel like it’s moving forwards and backwards at the same time.

He calls a cab. 

——

The club is loud and Harry lets himself get lost in the feel of it. What was that line from Great Gatsby? Large parties are so intimate? Harry had never agreed with it. Small parties were intimate, large parties were for getting lost in. With enough noise and heat and alcohol, Harry didn’t have to be Harry anymore. He didn’t even have to be a person, just a body, weaving through others and vanishing between the flashes of lights. Time didn’t pass at large parties. There was no forwards or backwards, just sensation, just feelings looped in an endless moment. 

There are no time capsules at large parties. 

Shit.

Harry stumbles through the crowd to Liam. He’s leaned up against the bar with Niall, who’s excitedly explaining something about golf. Harry couldn’t care less.

“Liammm.” He draws out the man’s name, frowning when he doesn’t get a reaction. “Liam.”

“Yes, Harry.” Liam sighs, turning as the man drunkenly bumps into his shoulder.

“You know time capsules?”

Liam’s brow furrows in confusion. “I know of them, why?”

“‘D you ever find one?” Harry pushes his way to the bar, raising his hand for another drink.

“No, I don’t…” Liam trails off, looking to Niall for help. 

“I made one once,” Niall shrugs, “With my brother. We buried it somewhere behind my house when I was little.”

Harry whirls around, “Did you ever find it again?”

“No.” Niall shakes his head, “Never went looking for it. Isn’t that part of the thing with time capsules? That once you hide it you don’t go looking for it again?”

Harry’s face falls, looking between the two men. “Are you sure?”

Liam stammers as he tries to find the right words, “I guess so. I don’t know much about time ca- oh.” He steps back as Harry slumps into a seat at the bar, burying his face in his hands. “Are you alright, mate?”

“If you went back-” Harry starts, turning to face Niall, “If you went back do you think you could find it?”

“Maybe? I don’t know?” Niall squirms uncomfortably under Harry’s gaze, “It’s been twenty years.” 

“But could you? If you decided you wanted it back, if I want it back.”

“Harry.” Liam interjects, “I’m starting to think you’re talking about something else.”

Harry raises a hand to cut Liam off. “Could you?”

Niall stammers, looking at Liam in confusion. 

Liam shrugs, eyes equally wide with concern. 

Harry’s stance softens, taking on a pleading tone, “Could you?”

Niall looks down, “I don’t think so.”

Harry’s face falls, brows coming together in a confused sadness. 

“Once you let go of something like that,” Niall swallows, cautiously watching Harry for his reaction, “I think it’s gone forever.”

And it’s like someone’s come in with the sharpest thing they could find and scooped Harry’s heart out of his chest. He can feel the chill of glass between his fingertips. He can hear the sound of the club washing over him. But it’s all removed. All distant. 

“Is everything okay?” Liam reaches out in worry, rubbing his thumb over Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry stands abruptly, swaying slightly on his feet. “I’m calling a cab. I’ve had too much to drink.”

“Harry, if something’s going on, you know you can talk to us about it, right?” Liam grabs Harry by the arm, trying to steady him. 

Harry shakes his head, fumbling for his phone.

Liam frowns, looking up at Niall to exchange unspoken words. 

Niall raises his eyebrows, tilting his head, challenging Liam silently.

Liam sighs. “Sit back down. I’m calling you a cab.”

Harry slumps back onto the barstool, leaning heavily against Niall as Liam steps away, phone raised slightly, looking for reception.

“You know,” Niall’s voice is low from beside Harry, “People aren’t time capsules.”

Harry looks up slowly. “But they… Niall.”

Niall shakes his head. “They’re not. Time capsules only reflect your experience of an era. They’re your items, your pictures, your memories. It’s simple. People aren’t like that, Harry. They have their own pictures, their own memories. They’re complex. They don't stay buried somewhere, unchanging.”

Harry swallows, tipping his head forward to rest his chin on Niall’s shoulder. “I just don't want him to leave again.”

“I know.” Niall signs, bringing up an arm to hug Harry closer.

“I know things were bad but… why did he have to disappear?” Harry’s voice is heavy, muffled in Niall’s chest.

“I don’t know, mate.” Niall’s voice is soothing, low and even, and Harry leans into it, away from the noise of the bar. “Maybe he’s just one of those guys, ya know. When things go bad they just… run.”

Harry shakes his head fiercely, “He’s not like that. He wouldn’t do that.”

Niall shrugs, “That’s kind of what he did.” 

Harry shakes his head again. He can feel his curls muss up against Niall’s sweater but he can’t be bothered to care. 

Niall takes a deep breath, hesitant, “Some nights I worry that we’re gonna wake up one day and he’s just gonna be gone again.”

“I need to go.” Harry shoves himself out of Niall’s arms. Staggering slightly as he pushes through the crowd of the bar. 

There’s too many people. It’s too loud. Just flashes of things. Of colors and lights. Faces jump out of the darkness and there’s far too many of them. Time is moving in every single direction at once and it’s nauseating. 

“Harry!” Liam grabs his arm and Harry whirls around to face him, chest heaving slightly. 

Liam’s eyes move over Harry, taking him in, concern evident on his face. “The car is here. Are you okay, mate?”

Harry nods, shaking him off. Pulling his jacket tighter around himself, Harry wrestles through the throng of people, pushing his way through the doors of the bar, the bitter cold of the night, the people on the street, until he’s collapsing in the back seat of a Range Rover. 

Harry slides down the expensive leather, swiping a hand over his face, not bothering to click the seatbelt. 

The street lights flash like the strobes of the bar, fast like his heartbeat, like his breathing that refuses to even out. The darkness of the cab is suffocating.

The moment they reach his house, Harry is throwing a hundred at the driver, tripping out into the snow. The icy air burns in his lungs and Harry welcomes the sting.

The front door is unlocked and Harry staggers through. He leaves his coat and shoes on, not sure of what he’s looking for until he stumbles into the living room. 

Louis is curled up on the couch, dressed in a pair of Harry’s old sweatpants. One of Harry’s numerous self-help books is splayed out on the floor, Louis’ extended hand dangling from the couch above it. His breathing is even and Harry’s finally slows to match it. 

Asleep, Louis looks so much younger. Like all the tired he carries through the day has fallen from his face and shoulders, finally granting him peace. 

Time capsule, his mind suggests. Harry waves a hand as if physically dismissing the thought.

Not a time capsule. 

A person. A person with memories and reasons and motivations that Harry may never fully understand. A person who could leave at any moment, but is choosing, for this one, to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> Next Chapter Release Date: Mar. 28
> 
> —————
> 
> Hello all and thank you for reading! 
> 
> This is the first time that I’ve ever written for a fandom as big as One Direction, and the first time that I’ve written a fic this long, so I’m very nervous and excited to be sharing it with you. 
> 
> This fic was unfortunately inspired by the horrible comment in Harry’s Vogue article, which claimed that all the boys had successful solo careers except for Louis, which is obviously not true. (Stream Walls, Two of Us makes me cry)
> 
> But it made me wonder, what if Louis really didn’t have a solo career, and the how and what of that grew into this fic.
> 
> Like any fic author, I live for comments and try my best to reply, so please feel free to give any feedback or just say hi!
> 
> Much love,  
> -CJ


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